


Breath of Life

by empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Angst, Sansa has news, and her husband is in VERY MUCH TROUBLE, one of the two, or angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4366853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart/pseuds/empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrion nearly dies and Sansa is none too pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I received on Tumblr: "If you die, I'm gonna kill you," or something of that like.

“If you die, I’m going to kill you.” Sansa’s voice filters through the haze of dreamwine. He wants to laugh at accusatory tone of her voice, he’s damn hard to kill after all. But still, he can hardly move, let alone laugh, and Tyrion slips back into the numb embrace of the dreamwine.  
***  
She’s going to strangle him if he wakes up-- when he wakes up, Sansa corrects. And then they are going to have a discussion about him throwing himself headlong into dangerous situations. Especially now that she’s--

“Jaime” He’s stepped into the sickroom while she was ruminating. She hasn’t seen him since Tyrion was brought back on a litter. She thought he was dead, when she saw his prone form laying in the middle of it, looking impossibly small. She forgets his height , he always seems larger with his natural swagger.

She offers Jaime a polite smile as he pulls up a chair next to her. Whatever deal that was struck between the Queen, Jaime, and Tyrion to keep Jaime alive intrigued Sansa, but she never asked. If her little birds hadn’t heard of it, it was something meant to be one of the few well kept secrets. 

Even so, Jaime rarely came to court, preferring to stay at Casterly Rock.

“How is he?” he asks, once settled. He’s wearing his ever present smirk, but his eyes are shadowed with worry.

“As well as can be expected.” She replies crisply, folding her hands on her lap.

“Have you eaten? Or slept?”

Nerves aren’t the only reason why her hands are trembling. The lack of sleep and sustenance are beginning manifest, and her head feels as if it’s filled with cotton wool. 

Jaime takes her silence as a denial and orders her food and then rest.

“Have you been studying to be a maester at Casterly?” She quips. The worry and anger of the last few days are beginning to break through her careful mask of courtesy, and she is becoming more and more irritated. “I don’t think you’d make a very good one. Aren’t two hands usually needed?”

“You’ve lived with my brother too long, sarcasm doesn’t suit you.” He replies calmly, his smirk growing. 

“My apologies, that was rude. Perhaps I have been with your brother too long.” 

“It happens to the best of us.” He waves a lazy hand. “Ah, here’s the tea.”  
A table is brought up and set between the two of them. The smell of the lemon cakes turn her stomach, but she forces down a few to appease her goodbrother. She eats until she feels truly ill, and the exhaustion that has hovered at the edges of her periphery flood her body.

She stands and makes her excuses to Jaime, hardly able to keep her eyes open. She brushes a kiss against her husband’s forehead, and lingers unwilling to leave.

Jaime stands next to her. “I’ll watch him Sansa. And if he dies, we’ll resurrect him and kill him ourselves.”

She smiles a bit at that and presses a kiss against Jaime’s kiss. “Thank you.”

She leaves without a backward glance.   
***  
When Tyrion wakes again, it is truly this time. He feels awful, like a battering ram was used against his entire body. It brings up the memory of the time after the Battle of Blackwater Bay. He groans.

“Sansa?” he mutters, trying to sit up and failing.

“No, it’s me. Your wonderful brother is here to watch over you while your lady wife is sleeping. My job, if I am correct, was to make sure you didn’t go and die on us all. It is poor form for the Hand of the Queen to die in his second year. I think Eddard Stark lasted longer than you.”

He casts his brother a filthy look, not really able to do much more. “Well, it does seem I am going to be around for a few more years at least, and please don’t mention that to Sansa. What happened?” He has gained some mobility and he uses it to push himself into a sitting position.

“Let’s see… After you decided to go after the rebellious lords yourself, poorly armed I may add, like an absolute idiot-- honestly what were you thinking?-- you were shot through with arrows a few times and received an ax blow to the head.”

So that’s why his head is throbbing in time to his heartbeat. “I was thinking the accepted my terms to talk. I wasn’t expecting them to ambush us.” He adds bitterly. Tyrion’s bitter they managed to surprise him, especially when he thought he had the upperhand. 

“Well, you did win, technically. So Daenerys sits on the throne for another day. Your lady wife is none too pleased with you… I’d avoid her for the next year-- no year and a half would be safer I think. And here she is now.”

Sansa enters the room, too well-bred to run much less burst. But there is a certain quickness to her stride that alerts him she came very fast. Her face goes through a myriad of emotions: worry, joy, relief, and anger. They all quickly disappear behind her cool mask of courtesy as she exchanges pleasantries with Jaime.

“I believe this is my cue to leave. Good day family.” Jaime smirks once more and leaves.

Sansa stands by the door, hardly moving. She’s staring somewhere above his head. “It’s good to see you awake, my lord.” 

Tyrion thought Jaime was joking when he said Sansa was angry at him, but her cold mask she slips one whenever she is irritated or upset says otherwise.

He pats the mattress next to him. “Come sit my lady.”

She perches next to him still stiff. He takes her hand in both of his and she instantly melts. She snuggles against him, pressing her face against his side. A sharp pain goes through him, but it’s quite worth it to have his lady wife wrapped around him once more. 

“I thought you were dead. I thought you were going to die and leave me all alone.” Her breathing is labored, but she isn’t crying. Tyrion has never seen Sansa cry since they took up being husband and wife again. 

“I will never leave you.” He promises and strokes her hair until she calms.   
Sansa sits up and looks him in the eye. Hers are glassy, but no tears. “I have something else to tell you. It’s important. I’m,” she bites her lip and pauses, “I’m expecting. A child. Your child.” She clarifies.

He stares at her astounded. And utterly lost for words.

“Aren’t you happy?” Her mask is beginning to crack, and she looks uncertain and completely lost. Like the child she once was.

“Yes.” He manages, voice cracking. “I am. So very, very happy.” And then his face breaks into a smile. Sansa beams at him and snuggles back into his side.

“I’m rather pleased I didn’t die.”

Sansa lets out a small laugh. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments and reviews are greatly appreciated!   
> If you'd like to prompt this or any verse please leave it here or over at emilianna-pond.tumblr.com>


End file.
